Shariston Foxburn; The Road Less Traveled December 24, 2010 Author: Tommie T. Carroll I threw my leg from over the well worn Steuben saddle that had been handed down to me from my father some several years earlier having made his final passage through Hawthorne pass. Thoughts which had eluded me earlier took me back to the memories of my father. We had traipsed along the ridges, through the hollows and coves of the surrounding mountains making memories that would last for generations to come. These thoughts and experiences of life had become as much a part of my fabric as the familiar earthy fragrances that I had come to love and embrace. They enveloped me and caused my heart to stop for a moment as I indulged the aromas of the forest floor. Having climbed down from my trusted companion and friend of the past several years I gave him a brush and pat on the withers with the back of my hand. A gift from a close friend I had named him A Rare Find a name that fit him as well as the doe skin gloves which hugged my dry calloused hands. My companion and I made our way down along the single foot path which led us out of the hardwood forest of Hickory, Maple and Locust. A Rare Find and I had just crested the peak of Hawthorne’s pass and had begun our descent to the ridge below. My mind’s eye again flooded with memories as tears swelled beneath my brow. The mountain laurel and fern growing alongside the overgrown path brushed sharply against the legs of my britches as we continued our journey. We careened our way down along the path through a Balsam, pine grove that us across the stream and on to the valley overlook. A Rare Find and I waded through the pebbled and smooth stone laden mountain stream where we paused for a break and a chance to refresh ourselves from the descent from above.
Posted on: Mon, 12 Aug 2013 01:19:40 +0000
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